


Dangerous

by SweetDeath



Series: Blood and Chocolate [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Other, Reader Insert, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Save Me, Unclear Relationships, i am trash, mentions of Phantom of the Opera, mentions of possible instability, mentions of previous interactions, reader - Freeform, super dramatic, unspecified gender, whoa there friend you might wanna slow down with that angst, you - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 15:38:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6382393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetDeath/pseuds/SweetDeath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something about him didn't feel right. It was subtle; no one else seemed to feel the same unease. You had to confront him about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dangerous

**Author's Note:**

> my first fic on ao3! I love Hannibal but I feel this is too wordy and dramatic...eh. Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!

He was dangerous.

Too dangerous.

He was beautiful, sculpted, charming, but most of all dangerous. He was a drug, intoxicating and lovely, with all the wrong side effects. He was Atropa belladonna, deadly nightshade, all alluring and sweet but poisonous and sickening. He was a corpse flower and you were his victim fly, helplessly attracted to him; the scent of the corpse flower attracted flies, smelling only the most floral and decadent of feasts, while the more sentient beings watched in disgust as they smell decaying flesh. You knew he would be the death of you yet you let yourself fall into disarray.  
He had beautiful handwriting. You noticed when you opened his recipe reserve. You hadn’t expected to see such elegant calligraphy but you should have expected more from a man of such prestige. You shouldn’t have been snooping around like how you were; it was unspeakably rude. He had invited you to his home after introducing you to a production of Phantom of the Opera, and although it was juvenile for his tastes, it was a wonderful introduction to the finer artistic performances for you. The actress that played Christine was absolutely lovely, and her voice sent you to heaven with her floating soprano notes, and the Phantom’s resonant and strong, seductive call entranced you. Hannibal didn’t seem too impressed with their performance. He took you back to his house as you excitedly recalled the performance in awe the entire way, most likely amused.  
You had repaid his kindness with invasion of his property and you felt ashamed but you did not stop. Looking through his recipes, you spot brioches, fondues, roasts, soups, bakes, and soufflés. You couldn’t even begin pronounce many of the cards that were in his container, but you didn’t have to and that was okay. You still felt bad.  
“I see you’ve discovered my culinary references. What do you think?” He appeared from seemingly nowhere but this was his house. He smiled at you, not unkindly, and took a comforting stance. You fumbled over your words, drowning in embarrassment and shame. He approached you slowly and methodically. He was Hannibal Lecter, a beautiful specimen of man, ruthless and precise. He knew what he was doing out of instinct, not of his knowledge of the human mind. You were a frightened herbivore while he was a hungry carnivore, each struggling to survive. He was so hungry.  
“Why are you flustered? Curiosity is only a natural reaction to the unknown.” He breathed a short laugh out of his nose, “Well, other than fear.” Composing yourself before continuing his conversation, you slide his recipe container closed.  
“Ah, sorry about that… I just- I was curious,” You cringed realized you recycled his words. “So, that was some show, wasn’t it? I’m very happy you decided to introduce me to your, ah, ‘culture’. Can we do this again sometime?” He blinked warmly at you. “Don’t apologize for your nature. I’ve seen better performances but I have also seen worse,” he glanced at you through the corner of his eye as you snickered at his snarky reply, “It would be an honor for me to accompany you to another show. Perhaps next time you can take me to one of yours? A rotation would certainly provide a fair look into my interests as well as yours. It wouldn’t be right for you to learn about me while I know nothing of you, no?” He removed his suit jacket, revealing a vest, fitted shirt, and a patterned tie.  
Today was formal; the Phantom was indeed the stage of an opera, but it was not nearly was formal as a traditional opera. The Phantom was watered down, a delightful show but not a piece he would listen to often.  
“Maybe I could take you downtown to see some musicals? I know more about musicals than classical music. How about Sweet Charity? Or I heard that The Lion King is in town too, I haven’t seen that show but I heard the score is wonderful.” You went on about the other musicals you’ve heard about recently to him, mostly talking to yourself but now you had a witness. A bright flash of inspiration hit you.  
“Hannibal!” You shouted, nearly in his ear, causing him to flinch and look down at you.  
“Yes?”  
“I should cook for you! I’m not very good, but I know lots about Japanese foods! Let me cook for you this time!” You practically hopped in excitement, wanting to repay him for his kindness. Repay this monster. He's a monster.  
“I could make something like, aah, let’s see… We could start with onigiri, it’s simple and traditional, or kara-age chicken? It’s like fried chicken but made with different ingredients. Or curry! I love Japanese curry but I’ve never made it from scratch before… Tempura? Sushi? No, sushi is actually an art and I wouldn’t want it butcher it for you… Soba? Udon? A proper tea ceremony!” You realized you were droning when he grabbed your shoulders firmly and you snapped out of your culinary daze.  
“How about we start simple?” You were so close to him. You could touch him. He was far more knowledgeable of the Japanese culture-of all cultures-than you, no matter how many years you’ve studied the language or lived in the country, you would never be as smart as him. 

 

“It’s a surprise for a dinner to end up like this, for a guest to cook for me.” Hannibal was sitting in his kitchen, watching as you as you struggled with your meal. You decided on yaki onigiri; grilled rice balls. You would have them normally prepared as well, paired with sake suggested by Hannibal. You did not live the same lifestyle as Hannibal. He was had a penchant for the theatrical, the expensive and rare, while you were content with eating foods from the convenience store by your house. Hell, he was an artist, a chef, a composer, and a fantastic therapist. You were a clerk at a downtown seamstress’ shop. The seamstress was a bitch, but you got to know Hannibal through her.  
“Well, surprises are good for the soul, doc.”  
Hannibal had the best rice on the market and a fabulous rice cooker. You had to ask for help on how to turn it on. You prepped all of the ingredients you would need for your course-  
“Okay, so we have konbu, akai ume, plain shio, some furikake, salmon, and ginger beef. Any preferences?”  
“Why not try all of them?” He suggested with a friendly shrug of his shoulders. You liked that.  
As you brushed shoyu on the triangular rice balls, you decided to bring up what’s been the elephant in the room in your mind for a long time.  
“Hey…Do you- are you feeling alright? I mean, lately, you’ve been…stressed? I don’t know, but you don’t seem very calm. Kinda rushed?” You regretted it before the words even left your mouth. He looked a little surprised. Tonight was full of surprises.  
“Why do you think that?” You knew he would pull this psychiatrist trick on you, “Often we reflect what we feel on others, as a sort of mirror of ourselves. Has your work been hard?” Dr. Lecter was a wise man, he knew you were uneasy and would use his knowledge to ease you as he kept his gaze trained on your face.  
The rice sizzled on the miniature grill Hannibal placed out for you.  
You breathed in a shuddering sigh, “You know I’ve been…fluid, with my emotions. I’ve been doing relatively well. But no one’s ever asked you how you’ve been doing, love. Just because you can fix yourself doesn’t mean you should.” You addressed him familiarly because he was familiar to you. You’ve never heard anyone else talk to him like that.  
“I assure you, my dear, I am feeling just fine.” He said with a reassuring nod to you. Your mind turned to static for a little while until you felt a warm hand on your shoulder. You realized that you could burn your food and that you hadn’t heard him move. As the rice was flipped, Hannibal wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head in the crook of your neck, hunched over due to his height. A surprising act of affection from Hannibal Lecter. It was nice.  
“Hannibal…” You couldn’t let him distract you this time, no matter how comforting the gesture was. “Yes, my dear?” He hummed in your ear. He was so, so close.  
“You’re not doing anything…bad, are you?”  
“Bad? Of course not.” His tone was firm and confident, but so soft, and you weren’t completely sure if you could trust him. He was a psychiatrist. You also knew he was doing something dangerous; call it intuition, call it suspicion, but you were usually right with following your instincts.  
The rice finished caramelizing to your tastes. Not as much as you would’ve liked, however you wouldn’t risk burning it for Hannibal. Soon, the rice was cooling on a plate. Hannibal’s chest was against your back and neck because, god, was he tall. His posture mustn’t have been all that comfortable you’d imagine. Concentrate.  
“…If you ever get involved with something bad, you can tell me, okay? I’ll still be your friend. I trust you. Okay?” You felt his hot breath on your ear become uneven for just a second, a fraction of a second, before you felt his lips brush your ear. They were chapped but still soft.  
“I trust you as well. If my life should ever come to end up in someone’s hands, I sincerely hope that those hands will be yours. You are my friend. If you are ever in a ‘bad’ situation, I will protect you, because I care about you, just as much, if not more than you care about me,” He smiled against your ear and you felt every word as his grip tightened, “And if the day comes that I would have to live without you, it would not be a life worth living. You are my friend. I would do anything to protect you. To keep you safe.” He was leaning on you slightly. You could see birds outside but you couldn’t hear them. It was bright outside, the sun reflected on the snow was almost blinding.  
In a life changing moment of clarity, you realized that whatever made you so uneasy about Hannibal, you wouldn’t be able to fix. If he did something wrong, if he hurt someone, you wouldn’t be able to fix that. You would be helpless in the events you felt were coming, regardless if they actually arrived. The best you could do was try to stay by Hannibal’s side for as long as you could. To try to keep your head above the water as a deluge of rain threatened to fill your lungs in a flood. Hannibal was a proper gentleman so your feelings must be a figment of your imagination, they have to be, but nevertheless you had to prepare yourself for a storm. You trusted Hannibal.  
“Do you love me?” The question was sudden and spilled through your lips without your consent, catching the both of you by surprise. The air was silent and tense for a heartbeat before he responded.  
“Yes, I suppose I do love you.” He answered nonchalantly. Relaxing even further onto you. You stood there no longer cooking, simply basking in his gentle embrace.  
“I think I might love you too.”  
You slowly rotated in his grasp, burying your face into his chest. His dress shirt was soft. His vest had some buttons that poked you but that didn’t bother you. You didn't know what to do with this information or your reaction to it, weren’t sure if you really loved him romantically, then you figured you probably loved him every way possible. He pulled away to look at you. He was hauntingly beautiful, his face, his body, his mind. You could feel his eyes making way up and down the map of your face as you leaned further into him. He smiled. You smiled.  
How strange you felt. Standing by the kitchen counter, isolated from the rest of the world. The rest of the world currently didn’t matter, it was just you and him and that's all that mattered. You two were alone in the world.  
He leaned down slowly and pressed his lips to your forehead, breathing out a sigh. You wrapped your own arms around him and attempted to place a kiss on his forehead in return, helped by him leaning down. You brought a hand up to hold his face, his high cheekbones and brushed over his slightly upturned lips. He closed his eyes and melted into your touch. He was a monster. You knew it but you didn’t know it. Not yet.  
A small sigh heaved out through your nose before you stood as tall as you could, and then some on your toes, to place a kiss to his lips. Soft, gentle, and reassuring. You didn’t know who you were trying to comfort, to put your worries to rest or to show him how much you cared. He returned your efforts. Again and again, you collided with him, holding each other. Him bracing for the storm to come and you being dragged into it.


End file.
